Server Down (Sort Of)
I Accidentally Became a Guild Therapist
Chapter 39 – Server Down (Sort Of)
There are certain universal signs that a game server is, to put it professionally, having a spiritual meltdown. Glitchy weather, where rain falls sideways in rainbows and snow drifts over desert zones? Sure. Music tracks playing backward, summoning arcane digital demons with their reversed melodies? Okay. Gravity suddenly applying emotional bias, making you float when happy and plummet when sad? Classic, if inconvenient.
But NPCs spontaneously crying in every major town, openly weeping with unscripted grief or joy, sharing memories they shouldn't even possess?
That was new. That was a sign of true, profound, systemic chaos.
Back in the main world, Livia had returned—violently, gloriously, rollbackedly. She gasped awake on the cobblestone floor of Dawnhold, her entire body aching as if every line of her code had been stretched and snapped. Her Therapist's Log still glowed faintly at her hip, a constant thrumming presence, her fingers twitching with raw emotional residue, like phantom limbs of feeling.
Around her, the world was beautiful again: color restored, textures loading at an optimistic 87% success rate, birds chirping (though slightly off-key, like a corrupted audio file), and player guilds resuming their usual idiocy, shouting trade offers and recruiting for raids. Except…
People were sobbing. Everywhere.
Not from damage. Not from debuffs. Not from the usual, programmed despair of failing a raid or losing loot. But from... memory.
From an outpouring of feelings they weren't meant to have.
An archer, usually stoic, leaned against a Dawnhold fountain, openly crying over her fox companion, murmuring about "lost childhoods" she'd never been coded to experience. A burly tank stood frozen mid-battle in the distance, whispering, "I miss my dad," before getting one-shot by a lowly slime he should have vaporized.
An actual elite mob in the Eastern Plains stopped chasing a terrified lowbie just to sigh dramatically, radiate a wave of profound sorrow, and despawn into a puff of regret.
> [STATUS: EMOTIONAL LEAK DETECTED IN MULTIPLE PLAYER ZONES]
> [CAUSE: LUXEMIRA RESONANCE FEEDBACK LOOP]
> [CONDITION: TEMPORARILY UNCONTAINABLE]
>
"Great," Phina muttered, stepping beside Livia, her usually perfectly coiffed hair slightly askew as she scanned their glitching surroundings with a mix of exasperation and grim amusement. "We broke the world. Again. Or rather, she broke it, we were just there."
"Correction," Nyx said, adjusting his pristine black gloves with exaggerated calm, despite the chaotic sobbing chorus around them. "She broke it. We merely accessorized the meltdown. We brought the flair."
Alaric, who had somehow arrived upside down again—his legs tangled in Glimmer, who was gently trying to untangle him—grunted loudly as he fell fully to the ground with a dull thud.
"Did we win?" he mumbled, face buried in the cobblestone.
"Yes, Sir Courage," Phina sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "You bravely hit the ground with your skull. Again. Very heroic."
Glimmer squeaked apologetically, its iridescent form shimmering, and politely patted Alaric's head with one gooey pseudopod. The paladin, oblivious, flashed a thumbs-up from the dirt and accidentally cast Holy Shout, sending three Dawnhold pigeons flying off-screen in a panicked, feathered explosion.
Meanwhile, Livia was still on her knees, staring at her Therapist's Log like it had grown teeth. It wasn't just glowing now; it vibrated with a raw, insistent power, a small sun of pure data-emotion.
She didn't need to open it. She could feel it—like a backup drive of every single emotion she'd absorbed from the root of the system to now. Tulina's soft joy, amplified into a global hum. Blorbo's idiotic, earnest love, a steady warmth. Phina's anxiety, a familiar thrum under the surface of the world's chaos. Bron's silent, unwavering loyalty, a grounding force. Even the First Nono's final, gentle smile before fading, a poignant echo. The words "You'll remember us. That's enough." seemed to flicker across the Log's surface, a ghostly, golden script.
And deeper than that: a presence. Not quite sentient in the way a person was, not quite silent and inert like old code.
Just… watching.
Resonating.
Remembering.
Her.
> [RELIC ANOMALY: LOCALIZED WITHIN SUBJECT LIVIA]
> [STABILITY: LOW]
> [EFFECT: SPREADING]
>
She swayed, a wave of profound exhaustion washing over her. The sheer volume of incoming emotions, the world suddenly feeling back, was almost unbearable.
A strong hand caught her by the shoulder, firm and steady.
It was Miles. His usually aloof expression was softened, his gaze direct and unwavering.
He didn't speak immediately, just met her eyes.
Let the moment exist, allowing Livia to ground herself in his silent presence. No bravado. No snark. Just solid, unvarnished support.
"You still with us?" he asked softly, his voice cutting through the distant sobs and confused player shouts.
Livia gave the smallest nod, her throat tight. "Barely."
"You don't have to carry all of it alone," he said, his thumb gently pressing into her shoulder. "You've already brought them back. That's enough—for now. And for what it's worth, Livia, I think it's beautiful." He held her gaze, a rare flicker of personal warmth in his eyes. "Let the world handle its own drama for a minute."
His hand stayed steady on her shoulder, a physical anchor in a world turned fluid. And Livia—just for a moment—remembered she still had a body. Still had breath. Still had friends who would punch glitch gods in the face to bring her home. A fragile sense of self began to reassert itself amidst the emotional maelstrom.
She stood slowly, using Miles's hand for support. The city swirled around them, no longer just a backdrop but a character in its own right, suffering and rejoicing. Player chat was in absolute chaos, scrolling faster than anyone could read.
> "Why is my assassin crying over his backstory?? He's supposed to be edgy not emotionally vulnerable!"
> "I just hugged a tavern owner and got a legendary drop, a [Tears of the First Architect] orb! What the hell is going on???"
> "CAN EMOTIONS STACK?? THIS IS BROKEN! My empathy stat just hit 999!"
> "My slime pet evolved into a sentient blob of pure joy because I showed it a sad movie, what is HAPPENING"
>
> [GLOBAL EVENT UNLOCKED: SERVER-WIDE EMPATHIC FEEDBACK]
> [REWARD: +20% Emotional Intelligence / -10% PvP Salt]
>
Bron grunted approvingly, eyeing the new alert on his HUD. "Huh. Feelings are OP now. Finally, a meta I can get behind."
"They always were, Bron," Phina replied, tossing her hair dramatically. "You all just rolled low on perception, apparently."
Livia, still dizzy from the rollback, looked around at the world she thought she'd left behind forever. She'd gone to the bottom of the system. She'd heard it breathe. She'd touched its forgotten heart. And now, standing here in a marketplace that smelled faintly like roasted mushrooms and overwhelming regret, she felt it everywhere—Luxemira was awake. And it was everywhere.
"I'm still glowing," she whispered, holding up her hands, which emanated a soft, golden aura. "That's probably bad, right? I feel like a radioactive mood ring."
Nyx snorted, pushing himself off the ground. "Livia, you're basically a walking relic Wi-Fi hotspot right now. Just don't sneeze too hard, or the economy might feel nostalgic and crash from collective ennui."
Phina placed both hands on Livia's shoulders, her expression unusually serious, her eyes holding genuine concern. "We're gonna figure this out. Together. But next time? No more mysterious portals, no more haunting the graveyard of sad tutorial NPCs, and absolutely no more crying slimes. I cannot deal with crying slimes."
Glimmer gurgled mournfully in emotional protest, its pink blush deepening.
Alaric, miraculously, had conjured a fresh mug of something bubbly out of thin air. He raised it high. "To feelings! May they never be optimized away!"
The mug immediately exploded in his hand with a soft pop, showering him in sparkling, non-alcoholic effervescence.
> [WARNING: OBJECT CONFLICT – UNSTABLE ZONE AURA]
> [RECALIBRATION IN PROGRESS…]
> [STANDBY FOR CLEANER RESPONSE]
>
Just then, a flicker danced across the Dawnhold sky, a momentary distortion of the clear blue pixels, like a distant ripple in a pond. It was almost imperceptible, a blink-and-you-miss-it anomaly, but Livia felt it in her gut.
Livia's faint smile faded, replaced by a cold dread. The system message was a blunt, uncompromising promise.
"…Wait. If the Resonance is still active, and the rollback failed to contain it…" Her voice trailed off, the horrifying implication forming in her mind.
Miles's expression hardened, his gaze sweeping the now-chaotic Dawnhold. "They'll send more. And this time, they won't be trying to contain it."
And from somewhere—far too close, an insidious chill that bypassed sight and sound—Livia felt it again:
A cold presence. Growing.
Not angry. Not vengeful.
Just empty.
Just cleaning.
> [CLEANER CLASS: MULTIPLE INSTANCES DETECTED]
> [LEVEL: UNKNOWN]
> [TARGET: LUXEMIRA RESONANCE - UNCONTAINED]
>
> Prepare for deletion.
>